Three Men in a Boat / Three Men on the Bummel

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We gave them h<strong>in</strong>ts on etiquette. We told them how to address
peers and bishops; also how to eat soup. We <strong>in</strong>structed
shy young men how to acquire easy grace <strong>in</strong> draw<strong>in</strong>g-rooms.
We taught danc<strong>in</strong>g to both sexes by the aid of diagrams. We
solved their religious doubts for them, and supplied them with
a code of morals that would have done credit to a sta<strong>in</strong>ed-glass
w<strong>in</strong>dow.
The paper was not a f<strong>in</strong>ancial success, it was some years
before its time, and the consequence was that our staff was
limited. My own apartment, I remember, <strong>in</strong>cluded “Advice to
Mothers” — I wrote that with the assistance of my landlady,
who, hav<strong>in</strong>g divorced one husband and buried four children,
was, I considered, a reliable authority on all domestic matters;
“H<strong>in</strong>ts on Furnish<strong>in</strong>g and Household Decorations — with
Designs” a column of “Literary Counsel to Beg<strong>in</strong>ners” — I
s<strong>in</strong>cerely hope my guidance was of better service to them than
it has ever proved to myself; and our weekly article, “Straight
Talks to Young <strong>Men</strong>,” signed “Uncle Henry.” A k<strong>in</strong>dly, genial
old fellow was “Uncle Henry,” with wide and varied experience,
and a sympathetic attitude towards the ris<strong>in</strong>g generation.
He had been through trouble himself <strong>in</strong> his far back youth, and
knew most th<strong>in</strong>gs. Even to this day I read of “Uncle Henry’s”
advice, and, though I say it who should not, it still seems to me
good, sound advice. I often th<strong>in</strong>k that had I followed “Uncle
Henry’s” counsel closer I would have been wiser, made fewer
mistakes, felt better satisfied with myself than is now the case.
A quiet, weary little woman, who lived <strong>in</strong> a bed-sitt<strong>in</strong>g
room off the Tottenham Court Road, and who had a husband
<strong>in</strong> a lunatic asylum, did our “Cook<strong>in</strong>g Column,” “H<strong>in</strong>ts on
Education” — we were full of h<strong>in</strong>ts, — and a page and a half
of “Fashionable Intelligence,” written <strong>in</strong> the pertly personal
style which even yet has not altogether disappeared, so I am
<strong>in</strong>formed, from modern journalism: “I must tell you about the
div<strong>in</strong>e frock I wore at ‘Glorious Goodwood’ last week. Pr<strong>in</strong>ce
C. — but there, I really must not repeat all the th<strong>in</strong>gs the silly